


Signs of Life

by Cluegirl



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: AU, Ghostfic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-19
Updated: 2010-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cluegirl/pseuds/Cluegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Samhain, when the walls that separate the living from the dead are thin, Harry Potter goes looking for someone in the ruins of Malfoy Manor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Signs of Life

"I still say this is a stupid idea, Harry. For crapsake, it's Halloween! We could be feasting our guts at Hogwarts instead of crawling about this burned out, cursed-to-the-quoins wreck!"

"So go," Harry murmured, stepping from the overgrown path into the moonlight.

"I'm not leaving you out here alone -- Voldemort may be gone," Harry stifled a smile; after all these years, Ron still hated saying the name, "but there's plenty Death Eaters left, and they'd... just...Harry?"

"What is it, Ron?"

"This is the Manor's graveyard."

"Mm." He dropped his bag where the grass gave way to a pebbled beach. "So it is. And it's 11:30 on Hallows Eve as well. I really don't need help here." He didn't say he wanted Ron to go – hoped he wouldn't have to say it. Ron was his constant and his best friend, but there were some things Harry just knew he could never explain. Draco was one.

Actually, Draco was several, conveniently lumped under a common heading.

"That's Eurydiserum isn't it?" Ron plopped down beside Harry and nudged the bottle, "This is what you were making when Snape went to get the warts off. I knew it smelled familiar."

Harry smiled, remembering. "Yeah. Neville couldn't have had better timing if he'd tried."

"Yeah..." Ron watched him empty the bookbag, "So why would you need Eurydiserum on Halloween at the ruins of Malfoy manor?"

Harry steeled himself and met his best friend's eyes. "Ron Weasley, have I ever lied to you?"

Ron blinked. "Well, yeah!"

"I mean about anything that mattered," Harry sighed, stacking the twigs he'd brought into a careful pyramid; three each of oak, ash, linden, laurel, holly, pine, willow, birch and yew. He transfigured the twigs into a respectable balefire while Ron thought.

"No, I don't reckon you ever really did, Harry," he said at last, his eyes going amber as Harry incindio'd the firewood to blaze. "and I'm guessing that answer means if I don't want you to start lying tonight, I should piss off and stop asking you stupid questions, right?"

Amazing how Ron could say that and not sound hurt. Grateful, Harry nodded, hoping the firelight glaring off his glasses would mask any brightness to his eyes.

"Right then," and Ron was on his feet, grinning, "this is me, pissing off. Think you'll make it to the banquet, or should I save you a bit of the trifle?"

"Ugh!" Harry laughed, setting half a sandwich, three biscuits, and a handful of crisps on a plate by the fire, "Too sweet. Pie or nothing, Ginge."

"Nothing it is," Ron answered, his robes billowing as a wind skated the pond, ruffling the glassy water and snapping the flames, "be careful tonight. And if you see Malfoy, tell him I said he's still a pointy-faced git." And with that, he apparated, leaving Harry stifling a grin and a tear at once.

"Loyalty, thy name is Weasley," he sighed, watching the stars appear and disappear behind the flying, ragged shreds of cloud. There wasn't much of that wind down on the ground, but his Quidditch eye told him it was a night for flying – to pelt howling along the sky, toss lightning from hand to hand to wand to wand, dodge bats and play aeroplane tag with the night in your teeth, and it was

Midnight.

Harry dropped the fingerbone into the flames, then the herb packets which flared emerald and argent against the leaping gold. Thumbing the cork out of the potion, Harry prayed his potion-making skills were better than Snape seemed to think, then took a deep, deep breath. If his Eurydiserum was right, it would be his last for three days. Harry's hand shook a little as he knocked the dose back in a single pull.

Ice locked his throat for a second, burning, blasting. Not choking the potion back up was the hardest thing Harry could remember doing. Then all at once, the pain evaporated, leaving him dizzy and slightly blurry about the edges.

"I know you're here," Harry whispered as the waves slapped restlessly on the shoreline, "I know you can hear me. I've come, just like I promised." The broken wand clattered in his pocket as he shivered, but he didn't want to use it yet -- not till he was sure. "Where are you?"

It couldn't have only been dreams and survivor's guilt, could it? He couldn't really be wasting his time here. The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven. Maybe it really was all in his scarred, weary, screwed up Gryffindor head. The boat. He'd forgotten to launch the boat!

Cursing himself in flat, angry whispers, Harry snatched up the lantern-ship and strode into the water, shivering as the chill wrapped around his knees. He lit the candle with his wand-tip and gently set the curved hull into the pond. It spun lazily in a circle, bobbing against Harry's legs in a way that made him want to kick it.

"Dammit, Draco, what do you want me to do?" He shoved the boat toward deeper water, watched its flame dance and reflect in the ripples. Nothing but the wind in the trees replied.

Harry returned to the balefire, huddling close as his robes dried, fingering the pieces of Draco's wand, and wishing he could bring himself to burn them. He threw the food into the fire instead. Somewhere -- maybe only in his dreams -- Draco Malfoy was alone, hungry, and cold. Somewhere a boy who had been his enemy for no good reason at all needed Harry to remember his name, his voice, his arrogant sneer and mercurial eyes. To remember what could have been, and what might not have had to happen.

"Why do I let you do this to me?" Harry found himself whispering, staring at the lantern-ship's glimmer -- twinned against the dark water.

"You do this to me."

It wasn't an echo. Harry stiffened, searching the moonlit pond for any stray curl of mist. But there was only the lantern bobbing farther and farther away.

"Why are you playing with me like this?" Harry shouted, barely louder than the crackling flames as he shot to his feet, "Why are you haunting me?"

The wind ruffled his hair with a chilly touch. "Haunting me."

He scanned the trees, the crumbling monuments, the slouching cairns.   
Nothing. Not even the ancients of the shattered Malfoy pride seemed inclined to appear; none in rags, none in bags, and none in velvet gowns. He held his breath until he remembered the Eurydiserum was doing it for him.

"No, I am not going mad," he gritted, thrusting the broken wand over the fire. The potion kept it from blistering his skin, made the heat into a caress. "Dammit, you dragged me here, now talk to me! What the hell is it you want, Draco?"

"You want Draco?"

Behind him. It was not the wind that stirred against his ear; the wind simply did not know such things about him. Harry clutched the scorched, smoking wand back from the firedraft and whispered the damning truth.

"Yes."

Then he felt the arms lift around him, and the hands slip over his own – not so cold as he'd thought they would be.

"Yes."

 

Fin.


End file.
